


Let down your long hair

by myrish_lace



Series: Law of Attraction [4]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Lawyers, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Jon and Sansa Are Not Related, Jonsa Summer Challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-29
Updated: 2017-07-29
Packaged: 2018-12-08 14:07:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11648115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myrish_lace/pseuds/myrish_lace
Summary: Jon and Sansa work at the same large law firm in Chicago. They worked together on a trial, and grew closer. They live together now, and Jon has a bit of a thing for Sansa’s hair. Sansa loves it, but she secretly worries about it too. Tonight, she asks Jon to explain his fixation.





	Let down your long hair

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LadyMD](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyMD/gifts).



> Written for Day 3: Fixation of Jonsa Summer Challenge. I was going to wait to post this to the Law of Attraction series, since it's kind of freestanding smut, but I've been in need of happy Jonsa fluff and thought you all might be too!

Jon tugged at her bun the minute they walked in the door to their apartment.  The pins came out, and soon his hands were combing through her hair.

“God, I love that I can do this now,” he whispered, close enough to her ear to make her shiver.

“Jon, at least let me change.” Sansa had barely set her purse down. In truth, taking off her suit was pretty low on her priority list. Especially since Jon was making those wonderful, rumbling noises deep in his chest.

Jon had told her, at the end of their earlier trial, that he'd dreamed of letting her hair down when they were in court. He’d been distracted by the thought of tugging her hair free so he could see it around her shoulders. 

He'd never done it, of course. Jon was too professional for that. But now that they lived together, he did it every chance he got. 

“It's like you're obsessed,” Sansa murmured. When Jon took her hair down, it seemed to drive him wild.

"Might be. Come here, love."

He pulled her closer to his chest. His pupils were already blown.  He swept her hair aside and kissed her neck. She held on to the lapel of his jacket.

“At least –“ she whined as Jon nipped at her neck. “At least take your jacket off.” She felt him shake his head, and smiled to herself.

“You’ll be able to ravish me better,” she said, like she was offering a kid a cookie, and he laughed. He came up for air.

“All right. Off with yours too.”

He got hers off quickly, leaving her wearing only the green silk shell underneath. Before he could reach for her again, she tsked and undid the button of his jacket. Some small part of her was dismayed at the pile of expensive clothes on the floor.

_We’re going to need to dry clean them, and we really should hang Jon’s up, the wool will wrinkle–_

“I’ll take them to the cleaners tomorrow. Hell, I’ll buy a new suit. Just be with me now, sweet girl.”

Then Jon captured her mouth, plunging his hands into her hair. She forgot everything except the insistent way he tugged at her bottom lip and how he slid his hand under the green silk.

“Jon–“ She sounded breathless and needy and she didn’t care, because this was Jon, and she didn’t have to hold back for him.

She twined her arms around his neck, and pulled back to smile at him. He was going to kiss her again any second, but tonight she wanted to satisfy her curiosity, and maybe ease her fear.

“Why do you like it so much, Jon? Have you always wanted long hair or something?”

She could feel his fingers making small circles at her waist.

“Went through a long-haired phase in college. Not my best idea.”

Sansa wasn't so sure. Jon kept his hair neatly cut, in respectable lawyer fashion, though he couldn't seem to keep the top of his unruly hair in check. Sansa didn't mind. She loved brushing it from his forehead. She liked how he flushed when she did it even better.

But she thought longer hair on Jon might be a very good look after all.

“Well, at least I can help you keep it looking neat and tidy at work.” She smirked at him.

Jon groaned. “Stupid double standard. So unfair.”

He kissed her again, more forcefully this time. He glided his hand up her waist, and she sighed happily. The way he brushed his fingers over the lace of her bra made him arch up into his palm.

She _could_ touch Jon’s hair at work, and it drove him nuts. It was still a little improper, but she could manage in that motherly “oh dear, come here, you’re a bit of a mess” way.

Jon couldn’t do it to her, though, even though strands of her hair would sometimes come loose from her bun during meetings. He’d look at her hungrily those days, when no one else was watching, and she’d squirm in her seat. Discreetly, of course.

Hadn’t she had some loose wisps today?

Maybe that explained why Jon was pressing her back against the door, and deftly unhooking her bra. She whimpered when he traced his thumb over her nipple. He could get her worked up in a matter of minutes, and he was headed for a record tonight.

But he still hadn’t answered her question.

“Really, Jon, though, why – _oh_ , like that–“

He chuckled, and that did it. Now she was determined. He wasn’t going to get away with derailing her. She drew her head back and forced herself to focus.

Though the man really knew exactly how she liked to be touched.

“I’m in for it now, aren’t I?” He was still trailing his lips down her neck.

“Answer the question, Jon.”

When he met her eyes again, he was smiling with a look she couldn’t quite place.

“What?”

“Nothing, love. It just turns me on when you look at me like I’m a witness on the stand. There’s no getting away from you when you’re like this.” He leaned in and started nuzzle her behind her ear.  “You have no idea how sexy it is.”

She’d tipped her head back before she realized he’d managed to dodge. _Again_.

She put her hands on his shoulders and pushed, firmly. “No. No way. You really are sneaky, you know that?”

He smirked. “Worth a shot.”

She fiddled with one of the buttons on his shirt. She really did want to know the answer to this question.

It was silly, but she’d seen pictures of Jon’s ex-girlfriend. She had long red hair too. Though Jon never gave her any reason to doubt, she had fretted in the past that maybe, just maybe, he was thinking of another woman when he was lost in her hair.

“Sansa. Sweetheart. What is it? What’s wrong?”

The way she blurted out the question made her wince. “Is it her? Her hair, maybe?”

Jon looked mystified. “Who?”

God, this was embarrassing. “Your – your other girlfriend. Ygritte.”

Jon blinked. The real confusion in his eyes eased her heart a little. “Ygritte?”

Sansa looked down. The hardwood floor was an easier audience than Jon right now. “Her hair, it’s red, like mine, and I worry–“

Jon tried to tilt her chin. “Sansa. Love. Look at me.”

Sansa’s cheeks were burning red. She was acting like a child now. Jon deserved more trust. “Never mind, forget I asked, Jon. It’s fine.”

Jon wrapped his arms around her, and she held on to his waist. They stood like that for a minute, and her heart rate started to slow.

Though it was a bit uncomfortable to have her bra half-on and half-off. Underwires poked in the most inconvenient places.  

Jon’s voice was gentle when he spoke. “Would you come with me to the couch, sweet girl?”

Sansa let Jon lead her by the hand to the living room. He sat down sideways and motioned for her to join him. He looked a little silly with his fancy shoes and dress pants, but she barely noticed.

This was how they watched movies together, or sometimes how they just talked about their day. Sansa slipped into his arms. Her back was against his chest. She felt secure and at ease like this, with him surrounding her.

She still trembled a little, though. What was _wrong_ with her tonight? If she’d just left that question out Jon would still be making her moan in the most delicious ways by the door.

_The moment, Sansa, live in it. Is that so hard?_

“May I answer your question, Sansa?” Jon was smoothing her hair away from her brow in long, smooth strokes. Sansa kicked off her heels and curled up properly, resting her head on his chest. She nodded, and looked up at him.

Jon’s dark eyes were soft. He kissed her cheek. “I’m going to answer your question in three parts. All right?”

Sansa couldn’t suppress a tiny smile. This was how they taught the new lawyers how to handle questions from judges and partners. “Yes.”

“Good. First. This has nothing to do with Ygritte. I haven’t thought about her for years. This has everything to do with you.” He kissed her forehead. “Please believe me, Sansa.”

His voice shook, and Sansa looked at him in surprise. She hadn’t realized that by asking her question she might worry him too.

“I do, Jon.” She cupped his cheek, and felt him sigh. “I believe you.”

He took her hand from his cheek and kissed her palm.

“Second.” They were both smiling now, because this was goofy, honestly. Sansa suspected, though, that this familiar format might make it easier for both of them.

“I like it when you let your hair down.”

Sansa raised an eyebrow. _That_ answer had been a letdown.

Jon looked like he knew it, too. “Wait, wait, I’m not finished. You get wrapped up in work. It’s what makes you an amazing lawyer. You can see the big picture, and all the details that matter.” He kissed her temple.

Sansa remained unimpressed.

“So figuratively, you want me to let my hair down? Someone has to care about the dry-cleaning, Jon. Remember your suit emergency?”

Jon had been left suit-less before their last court appearance, until Sansa had dug up a black suit from the back of the closet. Black was an unusual color for a male lawyer to wear to court, but it got the job done.

And he’d looked damn handsome, too, she mused.

“I do, and you saved my butt that day, Sansa. I would have had to show up naked, and we all know how that would have turned out.”

Sansa tilted her head. “Judge Westerling’s a fairly young woman. You might have gotten called back to her private chambers. You know. To ‘explain’ yourself.”

Jon snorted, then tickled her stomach. “You and your air quotes. Annoying and adorable.”

She giggled. “And accurate. Don’t forget accurate.”

Jon gave her an exaggerated sigh this time. “Absolutely, yes, and ‘accurate’. Now where were we?”

“We were talking about dry cleaning.”

Jon started smoothing her hair again. “We were talking about how much I love it when you let your hair down. And I don’t mean figuratively.”

He paused. “Well, maybe a little bit of both. Figuratively and literally.” He got that dreamy look in his eye that meant he was thinking of a hundred different arguments at once.

Sansa poked him playfully. “Too many words. Wrap it up, counsel.”

“Hush.” He let his fingers linger at her temple.

When he started again, he pulled her a little tighter to his chest. She could feel how warm he was.  Sometimes it took Jon a minute to collect his thoughts. He wasn’t quite as quick as she was on her feet in the courtroom. But when he did speak, it was worth it. The same was true tonight.

“Because – when you let your hair down, it means we’re at home. We’re together, and you trust me to take care of you. I can try to take some of those worries that you get wrapped up in off your mind.”

Sansa smiled. Jon was good at that. The singular, wholehearted concentration he had when he made love to her drove everything else from her head.

And the out-of-this-world orgasms weren’t half-bad either.

“I do like that,” she murmured. “I’m grateful for it, Jon.” She felt a quiver of nervousness return to her stomach. She could be ungrateful sometimes, she could, it was one of her worst traits–

Jon traced her stomach, and Sansa knew he could feel the tightness there.

“That’s a relief, because it’s a real hardship for me, Sansa Stark, let me tell you. Having to make love to a gorgeous woman who’s smart and funny and like heaven to touch.”

Sansa swatted him. “Now you’re teasing.”

He caught her hand. “I’m not, love. I’m not.” A flicker of uncertainly crossed his face. “Well, I am, about the hardship part. That was obvious right? I–”

She put a finger to his lips. “Hush, Jon, you’re spoiling the moment.” She smiled. “You do mean it. I can tell.”

He kissed her finger. She melted back into his chest, and he started stroking her hair again.

“Third.” She felt a bubble of laughter, but tamped it down. She was a bit excited, truth be told. All lawyers saved their best arguments for last.

“I love to see it, sweetheart. It does something to me, Sansa, to know I can take it down, and others can’t.”

This was a part of Jon she suspected others didn’t know about given how quiet and polite he was. That he could be a little bit – possessive. And she loved it.

She snuggled closer to him, stroking his cheek. It was past time for him to shave. But she liked how the stubble was rough against her fingertip.

“You don't let your hair down for anyone else. You remind me how lucky I am, when I see it down around your shoulders.” He brushed his lips over her hair.

Long hair was a rarity at a law firm. Most women kept it short. Shorter meant more professional. A chin length bob was fairly standard. Shoulder length hair was unusual. And hair that fell down your back – well, that was quite rare.

It meant Sansa had to put her hair up at work every day. But she wasn’t inclined to cut her hair, no matter what Career Services had told her during law school. It reminded her of her mother, and she simply preferred it.

Jon was planting kisses on her forehead as he stroked her hair.

“I love how it smells.”

“So you like my shampoo, then?”

Jon slid his hand under her blouse again. She was glad they were sitting down. Her knees were weak.

“No, it smells like you, sweet girl.”

He was tracing her ear now, and she closed her eyes. His voice was deeper, more urgent.

“I love how it looks, Sansa. Bright copper in the sunlight. Deep red when we go out to dinner and the candlelight catches it.”

He cupped her breast, flicking his finger over her nipple like he had earlier, and now she was the one who reached up to kiss him. She nipped at his lip and he moaned, sliding his tongue into her mouth. A lovely heat replaced the tautness in her belly, and she couldn’t keep a small, frustrated noise from escaping her when he drew back.

“Not done yet, darling.” His pupils were blown again.

She reached down and felt how hard he was. “Good, because I am really hoping you’re going to take me on this couch.” He groaned and surged into her hand. She leaned up to kiss him again.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this but – wait, Sansa, just for another minute?” He was breathing faster now, but there was determination in his gaze. He wanted to convince her, she realized. Convince her once and for all.

She reluctantly let him go and heard him swear under his breath. He closed his eyes and pulled himself together.

He brushed her hair from her forehead.

“I love how your hair feels, Sansa, how it’s fine and heavy in my hands at the same time. How the strands are like silk when they pour through my fingers. I love to tuck it behind your ear, and I love brushing it away from the nape of your neck when I kiss you.”

He looked at her like she was the only woman in the world.

“I love to run my fingers through your hair in the mornings, before anyone else can. I love to see it against your skin. How it falls like a curtain around my face when we make love.”

Sansa let out a breath she hadn’t known she’d been holding. She’d believed him before, about Ygritte. Or her head had. Her heart was more stubborn. But Jon – the way he touched her, the way he cared for her, the way he loved her – Jon had finally gotten through to her heart.

Jon kissed her forehead one more time. “The way I love your hair is tangled up in the way I love you, Sansa. I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable, I can tone it down–“

Sansa pushed him back into the couch cushions, kissing him hard. He cradled the back of her head when she started stroking him again.

“Don’t, Jon, please, that’s one of the sweetest things you’ve ever said, please don’t tone it down.”

“All right, love, I won’t, I promise.” He hesitated.

“Out with it Jon.” She was undoing the buttons of his shirt. She had a sneaking suspicion she knew what he was going to ask.

“I just want to you give me some honest feedback.  How did I do?” He sounded playful, but she’d seen that crease in his forehead before.

She put a hand on his chest. “You were a little slow on your feet, but then we knew that already.” She undid the last button and kissed his chest.

“We did.”

“You definitely saved your best argument for last–“ she ran her nails lightly up his chest, and she heard his breath hitch.

“I hoped I had, Sansa.” He held onto her waist. 

She tried to straddle him, but her pencil skirt made that impossible. She tucked her legs under her instead.  He traced his fingers under the hem of the fabric. She resisted the urge to rock against him, and by the strain at the corners of his eyes he was holding back too. They were going to have to take this to the bedroom, and soon, or it wouldn’t just be Jon’s jacket going to the dry cleaners.

“You did. I shouldn’t have doubted you, Jon.” She heard voices from her own past in her head. Angry ones, asking why she had to be so mistrustful all the time. Though she’d had her reasons.

Jon’s fingers skimmed her hip. “Sansa, you can, you know that, right? You can doubt. You can have questions about us. Just tell me what they are, darling. Talk to me about them. Please.”

She smiled at him. “I will, Jon. Can we go to bed?”

Jon sat up and grasped her around the waist.

“I think that can be arranged.”

“Oh please. You can’t wait.” Sansa felt lighter, buoyant...happy, now that she knew what was behind Jon’s fixation.

“Yep, guiltily, one hundred percent. And now, I’m taking you to bed, love.”

She felt a bolt of heat go through her. Jon’s eyes were that particular shade of dark brown which meant it would be a long time before either of them got to sleep.

And it was.


End file.
